


PMD: Hardboiled

by spinaltapdancer3



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Anthology, Completed, Detective Noir, Gen, Lively Town is basically an early 1900s American City, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon - Freeform, but not really, joking references to alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinaltapdancer3/pseuds/spinaltapdancer3
Summary: Exactly what it says on the stained glass window. You didn't come here for sweet talk, you came here for answers. For the right price (enough money to get me through next months rent) I can find 'em.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

You’d think that with the sheer amount of requests out there for lost items that show up on job boards a PI would have plenty of work. But that sadly ain’t the case. See, I happen to have the fortune or misfortune (depending on how you look at it) to live on the singular continent that doesn’t have a professional rescue/extraction/bounty hunting organization. Water continent is special like that. Apparently unlike every other continent, the water continent decided that everything gets resolved on a community basis. You got a lost item, you post it on the connection orb(if you’re lucky enough to have one) or you go talk to your friends. Then you and your chums, or whatever bored schmuck on the connection orb that needed something to do, go and fix the problem. This system works great if ya got friends or rich enough to afford a connection orb, but if you’re just a poor Poke barely making a living on the hard streets of Lively Town, then tough luck. That’s not to say there’s no police. Just that the mites, the tons, and the zones tend to stick to the enclave. After all it’s the fat Kecs in the enclave that pay their salaries, so why bother helping anyone else?

Oh, if you’re new I should probably explain, else this might not make any sense. See, Lively Town got this rep as a pretty harmonious city. You might have even seen some of kitschy post cards, probably of a multi storied city surrounded by green, next to the ocean, a few impressive looking buildings. Probably noted that weird castle at the very top? Yeah that’s the enclave. That’s where all the rich well to do Pokemon live. You probably noticed that little bridge that leads into it, maybe even noticed that the city is designed like a fortress. That design is to keep us exclavers out. The exclave is the rest of the city they don’t show on the postcards, the part of the city they pretend doesn’t exist. We’re the part of the city beyond the bridge, the part the towers and the bridge are designed to keep out. See all those fancy gadgets and all those items the Kecs sell got to be produced somewhere, and well the enclavers still got to eat, so someone got to produce their food. That job falls onto us exclavers who work the field or the workshops. Most of here don’t got much choice either, not many jobs elsewhere. Oh and good luck trying to get better pay or unionizing, the one time the zones do come out is to put down any labor strike or to keep the workers in line.

No wonder the Krooks, the Kricks, and the Salazzles got so big, since the coppers barely bother to do their jobs. Don’t get me wrong the Krooks, the Kricks, the ‘lazzles aren’t much better, they are gangs after all. But at least they’ll hear you out, and since a lot of them came from the rough and tumble streets of Lively Town they might even sympathize a little, and cut you some slack on the payment (or “community donation” as they call it). Well to be honest, the ‘lazzles and the Kricks ain’t really true gangs, the ‘lazzles run the gambling joints and the clubs, while Kricks can smuggle in anything you want. They run the seedy joints and the booze dens that keep the city running, help the common mon get through the daily grind. The only reason they do anything violent is because of that third group I mentioned. It’s the Krooks you gotta look out for, they’re the real gang of Lively Town. There’s no nice way to put this but they’re a protection racket, they claim to “offer” protection. Guess what happens if you don’t take their “generous” offer.

Now you gotta wonder, wait isn’t this a PI’s dream? You got an ineffectual police force, gangs everywhere, you’re practically the only option if some crimes happens. Unfortunately things don’t work out that way. Truth is most Pokemon barely got enough wages to support hiring a PI, and even if they did the crime was likely affiliated with one of the three groups I just mentioned. Let’s just say that they don’t like it when some PI comes snooping into their business.

So that’s my position, a down on his luck Chansey barely making the rent, drinking way too much pecha rum, running my pride and joy, a private PI business. How did a Chansey get into the PI business? That’s a story for another time. All you gotta know is that I run one, and pretty damn well if I say so myself.

It’s not all bad though, something you do get out of PI work is you never run out good stories to tell. Take for example the case of the missing stufful plushy.

**Case 1: The missing stufful plushy, part one**

I’ll never forget the day she walked into my office. I knew she was trouble the moment she walked in. It was a nice door, a door you might see in those dime noir novels. Smoked glass and all. No true PI would be found without one, how else would a customer know you were serious business? She was completely average, her legs stretched for 3 inches, maybe 4 if she really tried. I couldn’t see her eyes, being a Cherrim when it’s not blazing hot outside does that. She sauntered in. Her stem on the top of her head bobbing bobbily.

“Excuse me, but are you Chance the PI?”

Alarm bells went off in my head. The sauntering, the proper language, the lack of any dirt or soot on her. I was dealing with an enclaver. An enclaver in the exclave? Only two reasons an enclave Pokemon would come here, either they were really lost, or they were in some really shady business.

I weighed my options, I decided to take an ambivalent approach, see where this goes.

“That’s what it says on the door, miss, and I’m the only other mon in the room”

“You really should be more polite, you are talking to a lady after all”

I gave a heartily chortle at that

“Ma’am you’re an enclave Pokemon in the middle of the exclave coming to the seediest PI in town, whatever you got yourself into, I doubt it would be considered lady-like”

She visibly recoiled at that. Or maybe she didn’t. The fact that Cherrims can cover their faces makes them really hard to read. How do they see anyways?

She stood there awhile, clearly thinking.

“Well maybe I’ll just leave them, you can’t be the only business in town”

I gave a heartier chortle at that.

“Well good luck then, if you find some other PI send them my way as well, I’d love to get to know them”

Truth is, I was the only game in town, probably my only saving grace. I was the only mon that was willing to look into things who wasn’t connected to the zones or the big three. It was a good ploy though, even the stupidest enclaver knew that any exclaver would jump at the chance to make a few extra Poke, and the threat or taking that away was a good bargaining position. Of course she ran into the problem that there was no other Pokemon who did what I did, and being a competent PI who knew the businesses of Lively Town like the back of my stumpy hand, I knew that better than anyone. Given that she hadn’t already left to find those “other businesses”, I suspected she might have known that as well.

She stood there, clearly stumped. It was apparent she hadn’t expected this kind of push back. To be fair she probably had never encountered it from an exclave Pokemon. Now that I paid more attention, not only was she lacking any sort of blemishes, she was actually really clean, and was that a hint of perfume I smelled? This wasn’t just some ordinary enclave Pokemon, this was a rich enclave Pokemon.

With that sudden realization, I started re-evaluating my options. I could use the work, but I wasn’t desperate for it, which is why I had been so ambivalent. But if this mon was as loaded as I thought she was, then a big pay day might be in it for me. So I offered a diplomatic hand.

“Look mam, you and I both know that whatever you problem is, it’s either beyond the scope of the zones, or you aren’t entirely innocent in the matter. Now I don’t judge, I’ve worked for worse, but I’ll hear you out, and if you offer enough for my services, I’ll make it worth your time.”

She pondered it.

“Fine, but on one condition, whatever you find, you keep a secret, and whatever you find, goes to me and only me”

Fair enough, not exactly an unheard stipulation in my line of work.

Now the only question, why was she here? My guess is either missing boyfriend or gambling debts, could be both too.

“I need you to find my missing stufful plushy”

Ah so it was a missing boyfrie… wait, did she say plushy?

“Hold on I might have misheard you, you came here so I could find a missing… plushy?”

“Yes”

“Is that a nickname or a…”

“No, it’s exactly as I said, a stufful plushy, an old family keepsake, from the renowned Haversham Toy Company”

I really didn’t know what to think about that. Was this some elaborate joke? Did someone really come to me to find some childhood toy? Like I know people get sentimental, but why come here? I was starting to wonder if she was serious and whether I should just boot her out the door now.

“I’m willing to pay 10,000 poke for your services.”

That got my attention, even if it could be a joke, the potential for 10,000 poke was nothing to scoff at. That could buy a lotta pecha rum. Hell not even the cheap swill, I could even afford some of that new Captain Clawitzer brand. Heard they were experimenting adding an oran flavor to the pecha base.

I squinted at her, weighing my options.

“Fine” I concluded, “but you need to tell me everything”.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn everything you need to know, just follow me, I’m anxious to have this… matter… resolved”

She then promptly turned around and sauntered out the way she came in.

A little taken aback, and a little surprised at how fast the negotiations went. I grabbed my dingiest trench coat and my favorite fedora off the coat rack next to my desk and followed her out. It was a good trench coat and fedora, properly grey and drab. The kind you’d expect some dime novel detective to wear. No true PI would be found without one, how else would a customer know you were serious business?


	2. Chapter 2

**Case 1: The missing Stufful Plushy part 2**

The first part of the trip was uneventful. It was a brisk morning, and the ash from the factories had settled over the roads and houses like a fine grey snow. Most Pokémon were wearily trudging their way to work, making the atmosphere a little dour despite the sunshine. We passed by multiple food vendors that were hawking their breakfast foods to passersby, and some of more popular ones already had lines forming. I had already had my breakfast, and I doubt the Cherrim would ever consider buying food from the exclave. So we kept on going through town. All in all, despite the early morning bustle, a relatively normal day.

Entering the enclave was always something I hated. Not that the Enclave looked bad, the various towers and nice houses always lent it a sort of fairy tale air to it. One might even be mistaken that the enclavers were relatively modest given the small cottages that made up the enclave. However that was misleading. See unlike some other places that built up and out, Lively Town decided to build down. That meant most of the house was actually underground. This led to a very strange saying in the area “Don’t look at a Mons house to judge their wealth, look at their basement”.

No, the reason I hated going to the enclave was because unless you were one of them, the enclave didn’t like you. And boy did they make you feel it. Between stares, hushed tones, and probably the most impressive display of passive agressive kindness, the enclave knew how to make you feel like you didn’t belong. You could feel the mistrust from the locals. It hung over you like an eternal evil eye watching you from behind. Hell at one point one of the magneton police started approaching me, probably suspecting of being a stalker or a pickpocket, until the Cherrim somehow non-verbally communicated I was fine.

Eventually we reached her house, and my suspicions were immediately proven correct. She didn’t live in one of the cottages, she lived in one of the towers. The towers were where the wealthiest of enclavers lived. Now that I knew the payday could be real, I started paying closer attention.

The tower itself wasn’t that impressive it was the colored mud brick that every other house was built of. This one happened to be a nice shade of purple. The doorway was made of some kind of wood, and had the first noticeable decoration. A highly stylized golden P.

“Welcome to the Plum residence, my home” the Cherrim stated, with some degree of pride.

“And yes that is my name as well, you can call me Ms. Plum”

She then opened the door and beckoned for me to come inside. I guess I now know what the P stands for. Modesty has its limits apparently.

Her residence really was exactly what you would expect with a Pokemon with way too much Poke and not enough time to spend it. The place was insanely cluttered with stuff I could probably never afford.

Statues lined the walkways, the walls were absolutely plastered with paintings. Extremely fragile looking vases littered the floor. I had to move carefully as the floor plan was obviously designed for a Cherrim, and Chanseys were not exactly the slimmest of Pokemon.

We descended down a staircase to an underground room with many doors. From what I could see she lived alone, so why would she need so many damn rooms? Regardless we entered one of the rooms, which was immediately apparent to be one of the bedrooms. Actually given that she probably lived alone, this was probably hers.

“This is the scene of the crime, as you can obviously deduce.”

What? I didn’t see anything off, just that the bed was ridiculously big for one Pokemon.

“What exactly am I supposed to deduce, this looks perfectly normal”

“What do you mean this looks normal, can’t you see that my favorite plushy is missing?”

Oh.

“It was right there next to the pillow just a few days ago. Then 3 days ago I come home and it was not on the bed. I was in shock, shock I tell you. I’ve had that plushy since I was a child. What sort of despicable Pokemon felt the need to steal it, I don’t know”.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You think someone stole it?”

“Of course someone did, where else would it be”

I immediately thought of the clutter around her house. I mean seriously, I’m supposed to believe someone walked through one of the richest houses in town only to steal a plushy?

So I dropped to the floor and looked under the bed.

“Really, you think that wasn’t the first place I checked. Give me some credit.”

Sure enough there wasn’t anything there.

“Regardless I’d like to look around the house, maybe pick up some clues”

“Finally some real detective work. I was starting to wonder what I was paying you for. I’ll be here if you need to know anything, just don’t knock anything over.”

She was giving me a suspicious look, probably wondering if giving me permission to move around the room was a mistake. Wondering if the stupid exclaver wouldn’t knock anything over.

I just ignored her and started looking through her stuff. She may have looked under the bed (How? How do Cherrims see?) but I really doubt it got stolen, probably just rolled behind something.

I started checking behind vases, looking at the floor, looking for loose tufts of fuzz. Nothing.

“Did you take the plushy anywhere else on the day it went missing?”

“No, it never leaves this room, why would I take it anywhere?”

Ok. So she probably wasn’t lying about that. If this was a prank I’ll give credit where credit is due, she was doing a good job staying in character. Which then begs the question, if she was being sincere, where was the plushy?

I started shuffling around the headboard. Not much here either… wait, what’s this? There appeared to be some sort of thin line etched into the wood in the headboard. I squinted at it harder. No dust had settled into it, so it must have been recent. I looked over at Cherrim. She didn’t have anything sharp on, and I doubt her body caused this nick. Hell, she was probably softer than the plushy itself.

I looked at the floor around the headboard.

“I already told you, it’s not under the bed”

I ignored her, l kept looking.

There!

Something hidden in the shadow of the bedpost.

I picked it up. It was a brown scale.

Someone else had been here.

…

…

Dammit.


	3. Chapter 3

**The missing stufful plushy part 3**

During my time as a PI I’ve seen all that Lively Town has to offer. The bad, the worse, and maybe even some of the good. Don’t get me wrong, I love this city, but even I can recognize that Lively Town is one harsh mistress, and she isn’t afraid of showing it. The ones that survive are the ones that learn to roll with the punches, the ones that get ahead are the ones who abandon any qualms about dishing them out.

I’m a survivor, I like to think that I’ve maintained enough hope for the world that I haven’t become a conniving jerk. Or maybe that’s just the pecha rum talking. Regardless just to stay afloat, one needs to learn the ways of the world, and learn them fast. Some Pokémon have some folksy saying for any scenario. Usually some long story with a moral at the end. Usually begins with “Back in my day” or “This reminds me of…”. I say no one has time for that. Instead I have a list of 16 guidelines. What are all 16? No time. All you need to know right now is #3: It’s always worse than it looks.

Why do I say you need to know #3? Because this was a situation that was definitely worse than it looks. See not only did I have in my hands evidence that someone may have in fact stolen the plushy, ruining any hopes of an easy find, I had evidence of who did it.

“Krooks” I whispered under my breath.

Cherrim had been walking up behind me. I heard her stop the second I whispered that.

The brown scale could have only come off one Pokemon. Krokorok. Too big for the Sandshrew line, and too brown for a Sandaconda. Krokoroks were bad news. Maybe it was cultural. Maybe it was genetic. Maybe it was Maybelline. But one thing stood for certain, one way or another every Sandile, Krokorok, and Krookodile joins the Krooks, and the Krooks were bad news. So if one of them was here, something shady had definitely happened.

For the second time today I considered quitting the case. Dealing with the Krooks was a dangerous proposition. If I didn’t tread carefully, this could end up bad for me. Like my body will never be found again bad.

But it wasn’t like I hadn’t dealt with them in past. As long I didn’t step on too many toes, or the wrong toes, any losses the Krooks got would just be chalked up as a regular expense of doing their “business”. It was a tough call, and truthfully I needed more information, after all 10,000 Poke was still 10,000 Poke.

“Krooks, good for nothing… ” Cherrim whispered. She had come up beside me, quivering in anger, clearly about to start a tirade. But then she stopped.

“But why?”

“Lady c’mon it’s the Krooks, crime is basically their job description, why wouldn’t they…” I paused for a moment.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized the point she brought up was really germane. The Krooks may have been a crime syndicate, but they weren’t in it just for the kicks. They were in the business of making money after all, and unless I had missed some crazy new fad, I don’t think black market plushy was going to make you much dough.

“Was anything else stolen?”

“That was my first thought too, but I didn’t find anything else missing.”

That seemed true, I hadn’t seen anything out of place coming in either. In fact given how undisturbed everything else was, this seemed like an intentional hit. Hell, even the scratch on the headboard could have been an accident, probably the Krokorok accidently hitting their elbow against it, causing the scale to get loose while they were snatching the plushy.

So either the Krokorok had trespassed into the house, walked passed countless treasures, reached the bedroom, and only then decided to steal something, or the plushy had been the target all along. I had seen some pretty dumb Krooks in my time, but even I doubt I was looking at a petty burglary.

This case was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

\---

Over the years the police had built up a pretty impressive informant network. They had invested a lot of time, money, and monpower into it too. The zones liked to claim that if a crime happened that they would know everything about it by the end of the day, and that the perp would be locked up at the end of the next. To their credit this had a basis in truth. The police had in fact gotten better at persecuting criminals, almost to the point that the big three had to start taking the police seriously. Almost. Truly with enough taxpayer money, almost anything can happen.

Of course if you knew about Alejandro and his little bar at the corner of main and third, anything could happen. Alejandro liked to claim that he could find out about any crime within 3 hours, and if you asked nicely enough, he would use his contacts to resolve any issue within the next 3. This was of course a complete lie. Longest I had ever seen Alejandro take was 2 hours, 1 if I had been tipping well. Turns out drunk Krooks were really talkative, and if all you did was listen, you would basically know the entire goings on of the criminal underworld on that day. If the Krooks hadn’t blabbered about what you were looking for, then a few drinks “on the house” and some smooth banter could usually steer their tongues where you needed them to be. Truth is, the police could have made big savings if they just paid Alejandro’s more than reasonable “gossip” prices.

So given the bizarreness of the case I had with me, Alejandro’s bar on main and third was where I found myself going. Surprisingly, the day had only gotten colder as noon approached. I found myself tightening my trench coat as I made my way down the streets. By the time I actually reached Alejandro’s I even had my pudgy arms in the pockets.

The bell on the door and a cool, but not frigid, gust through the doorway heralded my arrival to Alejandro’s bar. Alejandro looked up, smiled, and asked.

“Something to fog the mind, or to enlighten it.”

“Both” I replied slamming a few poke on the counter.

“Let’s start with pecha rum, you’re not going to believe the case I got”

He walked over to the liquor cabinet and started filling my glass with pecha rum. “Really? Try me.”

“So I just got hired by one of the richest enclavers who had her pet plushy, and nothing else, stolen by the Krooks in a professional hit job.”

Alejandro finished filling the glass and forcefully slid the rum down the counter to me. I caught it, but it still hurt my arm. Being a Machoke and all, I think Alejandro forgets his own strength from time to time. Seriously, the species has so much muscle I’m surprised the glasses he handles don’t just explode in his hands.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. I know the Krooks better than anyone. Any Krook stupid enough to do an enclave hit job just to steal a plushy would have had been ordered to go to the doctor to check to see if they still had a brain. At best. What makes you so certain it was the Krooks.”

I slapped the scale on the counter and started drinking my rum.

Alejandro meandered over and picked up the scale.

“Well this a Krokorok scale, looks an elbow scale specifically, you have no idea how many of those I have to clean up off the tables each night.”

He gingerly put it back down.

“If what you’re saying is true then you have an interesting case on your hands”

I put down a few more poke on the counter.

“Interesting enough to want to look into it for me?”

He picked up the poke and counted it. Apparently satisfied he smiled.

“Interesting enough to look into. Come back in 3 hours”.

I finished my pecha rum, left a hearty tip, and left the way I came in.

As I ambled my way back to Ms. Plums residence, the wind started nipping at my hands, and I was once again forced to shove them in my pocket. Something didn’t sit well in my stomach. No, it wasn’t the pecha rum, I had long since built up tolerance to that. No. It was the case. Like Ms.Plum said “But why?” There was no world in which a simple toy plushy was worth stealing. There had to be something else going on. That something else had both the connections and money to hire out a professional theft. It slowly dawned on me that at some point I would have to face that something else if I was getting to the bottom of this. 

I had started the day looking at a missing objects case. It looked like I was going to end it staring down something much worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**The missing stufful plushy, part 4**

There’s this old saying in Lively Town, “If you don’t go looking for trouble, trouble will come looking for you.” No one knows where it came from, and no one has quite figured out what it means. Are you supposed to go looking for trouble so something worse doesn’t come looking for you? Is it just a cynical moral on the inevitability of trouble? Is it merely a cautionary tale on being wary even when you aren’t doing anything troublesome?

I’m a big believer in the second interpretation. Trouble certainly finds me whether I’m looking for it or not. So I wasn’t surprised that while being mildly irked by the cold on my way back to Ms. Plum’s, a particularly troublesome looking Leavanny called out to me.

“So you’re the detective Ms. Plum hired to look into her case. At first I didn’t believe the grapevine when it whispered that Ms. Plum had hired an exclaver to find her plushy. Yet here you are, trench coat and all.”

I considered ignoring her and just walking on by. But as a PI, I’ve learned that not knowing who’s taken an interest in your case can lead to some… unpleasant situations.

“Yeah? What’s it to you?”

“Honestly? Not that much. I heard an interesting rumor and decided to go check it out.”

You heard an interesting rumor so you decided to stop whatever you were doing and stand in the middle of the street in case a Chansey detective happens to stumble by? To say I wasn’t buying what this Leavanny was selling is putting it mildly. If she was just going to lie about her intentions there was no reason to stick around anymore. I could always ask around about her later.

“Well I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

I tipped my hat and started walking back to Ms. Plums. But she had one more thing to say.

“Before you go, you should know that there’s more to this involved than a simple plushy”

I stopped.

“You know something about why the Krooks stole it?”

“Krooks? Are they involved? Sorry, I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m referring to the recent legal stir Ms. Plum’s father's death seemed to have kicked up. I’m not at liberty to disclose much, court orders until the matter is resolved you see. But if you get the opportunity you should ask around about the Eastern Ocean Trading Company. There’s been quite a bit of drama due to the elder Plums death. Believe it or not, your plushy has a minor role in that mess.”

Having apparently finished her bit, she did small curtsy and promptly started walking away.

“I wish you the best of luck Mr. Detective. As to whether you’ll disappoint, that will soon be seen”

She then rounded a corner, leaving me alone with the cold.

“Curious” I muttered, and continued on my way.

\---

Fortunately the rest of my walk was uninterrupted, although a passing Magneton gave me a suspicious glare while I was nearing the Plum residence.

Unfortunately it seems like I was not the only one interested in talking to Ms. Plum. A nuzleaf was standing at the doorway and it appeared as though Ms. Plum was having a conversation with them.

As I approached I could begin to hear what they were saying.

“Oh my, your home has been robbed? I had no idea! Well I certainly hope the police catch the criminal responsible.”

“Yeah… it was my favorite plushy too. One of the few things I had to remember my pop.”

She gave a little sniffle at that. So the Leavanny wasn’t lying about the Plum Patriarch having recently passed away.

“Such dastardly Pokemon! If it weren’t for the mess the board was in, I’d dedicate every spare resource we had to tracking who was responsible. Of course if you gave me the shares… Well then that would fix the situation right quick! You’d have the entire company looking for your plushy!”

“Ms. Nuzleaf I appreciate your concern. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t give you what you want. I was just as puzzled by the will as you were. I don’t have the shares.”

The Nuzleaf was quite taken aback by this.

“You don’t have the shares? Then why would the will mention… are you absolutely certain?”

“I’m absolutely certain, frankly if I had them I would have resolved the mess with the board as soon as the will was read.”

“Well then. I will do absolutely everything in my power to find your shares… and your plushy of course. I guarantee it.” She gave a little wink at that. “Of course when it is time to distribute the shares, I hope you remember who had your back during this trying time, and who didn’t.”

She turned around to leave, and immediately saw me.

Her face contorted into a grimace.

“There’s a soup kitchen two blocks south of here, if you’re looking for a handout, I’d recommend you look elsewhere.”

Really? I knew I wasn’t enclave proper, but did I really look homeless? Regardless I decided to overlook the slight. I patiently waited by the entrance for her to move.

“Did you not hear me? Scram! Go back to the exclave where you belong!”

“Ms. Nuzleaf. He works for me.”

The nuzleaf didn’t hear her.

“What are you still doing here? Don’t make me call the police! Good for nothi…”

“MS. NUZLEAF. HE WORKS FOR ME”

That got her attention.

“Him?” She pointed at me.

“Yes, Ms. Nuzleaf, him.”

“Well then my apologies, I don’t know what came over me. Good day.”

With that she promptly left.

“What was that all about?” I asked Ms. Plum.

“Corporate politics, I thought I had escaped that world long ago. But recent events have conspired to thrust me back in… . Do you have any news in regards to my plushy?”

“I put out some feelers, I might have something for you soon. What I really wanted to discuss was the plushy though. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“More to the plushy? I couldn’t imagine what. But come inside, too cold standing out here for my taste.”

\---

This time we moved into what appeared to be the kitchen. Somehow it was just as cluttered as the rest of the house. Seriously where did she get all these things? I felt like I was sitting in the middle of a museum.

The light filtered through a small window, illuminating the table. We sat down. Ms. Plum was looking rather glum. Maybe all that talk about the plushy had gotten her down?

“You know. That plushy was one of the few things I have to remember pop by. He got it for me on my fourth birthday. I don’t know why, but that plushy had always stayed with me. All my other toys I got rid of long ago. But that plushy, it was by my side through the good times and the bad. Even when I left the house to go explore the world I always carried it with me. Imagine that. A fully grown Pokemon carrying a toy plushy meant for kids wherever I went. Now here I am, wishing I had saved more of my toys from my childhood.”

“It can’t be too bad. You certainly have all these other things…” I gestured around the round at the smorgasbord of ancient pottery, art, and other things too old for me to recognize “to remember him by”.

She looked around, a little confused.

“What? Oh these things? These aren’t from my father, I got these myself. Mementoes from another time. But enough about my father, you wanted to ask me about the plushy?”

“Yeah, a… let's call them an informant, said there might be a connection between the plushy and the Eastern Ocean Trading Company.”

This got her attention.

“The Eastern Ocean Trading Company? What do they have to do with my plushy?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Could you tell me about them?”

“Not much to say. Eastern Ocean Company started off as a small import/export business doing a few ship runs. It was founded by a few moderately wealthy investors, including my father. They traded mostly with the air continent. I think originally it planned to be a bulk trader, orbs, seeds, gummis, apples, if it fit in the cargo hull, it got shipped. I don’t remember much of it, I was young, and that era of the company is kind of overshadowed by what happened next.

Rumor has it that some clerk was looking through the stocks and realized that the ship coming from the ports near the Uproar Forest had an unusually high number of gummis in them. He mentioned this to his superiors, and the company organized a scavenging party for the next run to the area. Sure enough the scavenging party entered the Uproar Forest and came out like Bandits. Since the Uproar Forest was a relatively easy dungeon, at least compared to other dungeons that were known for having gummis, it was possible to scavenge the area to much greater degree. I think it was at this point the company really took off. I remember pop was always away on some business during this time.

That’s kind of it. The company used the profits from the gummi trade to expand into other areas, and from there it became what it is today. I can’t think of any way the plushy is connected to that.”

Hmm. She had a point, but the Leavanny mentioned something about the father’s death being involved. So I decided to see if there was anything there.

“The informant mentioned something about your father’s death causing something of a stir? It also seems like your Nuzleaf friend was interested in that as well.”

The Cherrim became a little more depressed at the mention of her father.

“Yeah it kind of did cause a stir. You see major decisions are made by the stakeholders of the company. Simple majority passes, this is majority of shares mind you, not individuals. Since no one had 50% of the shares no one was really able to take over the company, so you ended up with a lot of coalition politics.

Recently the shares have concentrated into the hands of two Pokemon. One has about 41% of the shares and the other about 43%. My father had about 10% with another 5% going to someone I don’t know. The other 1% is just sort of scattered among minor stakeholders. This made my father kind of an arbiter since his support could provide the majority. Now that he’s dead, the only coalition that can get anything passed are the two major stakeholders, and they don’t always see eye to eye. This really slowed down the governance of the company.”

“Is that what the Nuzleaf was pestering you about?”

“Yeah sorry you had to deal with that. She’s one of the major stakeholders, and yeah she was asking for my father’s shares.”

“So why not just give it to her, you don’t seem to care about the company. Why not just put the matter to rest?”

“How I wish that I could. But I don’t have the shares.”

Sigh.

“Look Ms. Plum, I have a hard time believing that because I’m pretty sure you would be next in line to inherit them after your father’s death. Plus it seems Nuzleaf was mighty convinced you did have them, so why would she come to that conclusion?”

Under her breath I heard her whisper “Dammit father why did you put me in this position?”

“Because by all accounts I should have shares. Trust me if I had them I would have ditched them long ago. Like you said I don’t care for the company. My father even explicitly left the shares to me in his will, the problem is he didn’t tell anyone where the physical pieces of paper are. You know, the physical evidence that he had the shares in the first place. I’ve searched his house top to bottom, even had one of the detectives look for any secret compartments, but nothing! No one can find a clue of where he left the shares!”

“Did he ever mention anything about where they might be?”

“No, and I kind of wish he had. He even came to visit me here a month before his death, and he didn’t once mention the shares or that he was willing them to me. All we talked about was the direction our lives had gone and our time as a family.

Everyone else, me included, just assumed he would will the shares to whomever he thought was worthy. He knew I didn’t care for the company. He even said so himself in the will. Left a cryptic message, something along the lines “ever since you got that plushy I knew that your heart belonged outside the corporation not in it. I’ve always believed that a Pokemon should follow their heart, and upon reflection of my life, I have realized that you have been a better judge of what’s in your heart, and in the hearts of others. That is why I’m leaving my 10% stake of Eastern Ocean Trading Company to you. I know you don’t want it, but I know you’ll make a much better decision of who should have it than I would. I know when you look inwards you will find the answers you seek.”

Hold up, this sounded kind of important. Why hadn’t she told me this earlier?

“Wait why didn’t you tell me this before? Your father mentioned the plushy, don’t you think that’s relevant? I can’t help you if you keep holding back potential leads.”

“What was there to tell you? My father off hand mentions the plushy in his will?”

“It could be a clue, I’ve seen weirder stuff bust open cases.”

“Trust me there’s nothing there. I’ll admit even I thought the reference was supposed to be some clue. I even checked the little knapsack the plushy has to see if my father hadn’t somehow stashed the shares in there. I’ve slept with that plushy ever since I was a kid. Aside from some of the seams coming apart, I assure you that plushy hasn’t changed a bit since I’ve gotten it. I asked around if anyone knew what my father might have been trying to get at, but no one that knew him could make heads or tails of the situation either.”

I thought about it a little. This felt like it had some relevance to the case. But frankly without seeing the plushy myself it would be hard for me to judge what the deal was, or it really was just an offhand reference.

Then again maybe it didn’t need to be relevant. Maybe just the perception that it was relevant was enough?

“Could someone have stolen it thinking it would lead them to the shares?”

“It’s possible. But I don’t know why someone would. It’s well known among anybody who has dealt with these kinds of things that the stock owner’s name is physically written on the share. Even if someone were to get a hold of the shares it wouldn’t do them much good, as it’s not written out to them.”

“What if they didn’t know the person’s name was written on the shares?”

“I doubt it. The only people who were there at the will reading was the rest of my family, who definitely know how these things work, and other stakeholders of the companies, who I assume know that too since they have shares themselves. Only one who wasn’t there for the whole thing was Ms. Nuzleaf, she was there for the part about the shares, but wasn’t there when I was asking around what it could mean. Probably why she came to me today, she probably thought I had figured things out by now.”

I was starting to see Ms. Plum's reasoning. To be fair I don’t know anything about this corporate governance stuff, but what I did know was that the black market hated traceable items, and it hated items that had no intrinsic value even more. Frankly, from the way Ms.Plum described these shares, in the hands of anyone but her father or herself, those shares were worthless.

I wasn’t about to discount an opportunistic clueless stakeholder, but I had to agree with Ms.Plum, it was a shaky motive at best.

But then what did that leave me with? Opportunistic clueless stakeholder was still a much better working theory than “random Krook walks past countless valuable artifacts, decides to only steal plushy.”

It seemed I still needed more information.

“Well then, it’s almost lunch, and I have contacts I need to go see.”

“I hope something comes up. I just want to grieve in peace, not have to worry about the company’s troubles as well. I didn’t ask for this trouble.”

“Yet it came looking for you anyway.” I replied as I left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact for all of you who actually play Red/Blue rescue team. Due to what some theorize is a developer oversight, Uproar Forest has a disproportionately high chance of spawning gummis. Given how easy and short the dungeon is and it's abnormally high gummi spawn chance, Uproar Forest is the optimized way to raise IQ.


	5. Chapter 5

**The missing stufful plushy, part 5**

For the second time that day, I found myself tightening my coat, fighting a losing battle to keep warm. The day was getting continuously colder, and it was starting to irritate me. It was starting to impact the others as well. Normally when I walk through the enclave the natives would occasionally give me a dirty stare. But now? They just kept their heads down, moving briskly to wherever they were going.

The cold air had started to freeze the ash onto the windows and the ground, making the already grey exclave even grayer. It was approaching lunch time so the streets were packed with Pokemon going to their favorite vendor. Even here the cold had started to depress everyone. Normally lunch in the exclave was a giant ruckus. Between vendors hawking their wares, the Pokemon standing around talking or ordering something, and just the general crush of Pokemon trying to get to wherever they were going, the exclave could get pretty lively. But just like the enclave, the cold had caused everyone to ignore the general excitement in favor of getting to wherever they needed to be so they wouldn’t have to stay out in the cold.

Fortunately for me, that meant the normal crowds of Pokemon that usually clogged the streets had been diminished, and in their place fast flowing streams of Pokemon were coursing down the sidewalks, taking me with them.

\---

The sight of Alejandro’s bar was truly welcome after walking in the cold for at least half an hour. Immediately after opening the door the warmth billowed out, enveloping me in its loving embrace. The bar was fairly crowded. The low murmur of a multitude of conversations wafting through the air. Couldn’t really make much of it but I heard a few “close the door!” and “you’re letting in a draft, idiot!” shouted my way. I ignored them, standing in the doorway, enjoying the warmth for a bit before finally stepping in and closing the door behind me.

I sidled up to the bar. Peanut shells were scattered all over the floor and empty glasses littered the bar top. One downside of Alejandro running such a skeleton crew of a staff is that he really didn’t have much time to clean, and you basically had to accept that your area was going to be a mess. Today it appeared my spot had been used by somebody who really needed to take some edge off. A concerning amount of shot glasses were scattered about the area, and they all smelled heavily of alcohol.

Alejandro came by and picked up the glasses and mouthed “hold on”. He then went back to his liquor shelf and grabbed a bottle of pecha rum. He poured some out for me, I slipped a few Poke, and ordered a big bowl of hot Sauerkraut. I knew he had the information, he always did, but I wasn’t in a rush. Alejandro bounced back and forth along the bar, while his staff of two timburrs weaved their way among the tables, getting orders, getting payment, and if time allowed, trying to make a dent in the piles of dishes left behind.

Eventually, I got my soup and let the warmth seep into me. In the course of the next half hour, things had died down enough where Alejandro could sit down and have a proper conversation with me.

“So you weren’t kidding when you said the Krooks did a hit for a plushy. Not going to lie, I thought someone was pulling your leg.”

“I thought the same when I first heard. So ya got any insights for me then? I got some leads but no sus, could use a helping hand here.”

“Yeah I got something for you. The street grunts that came in today couldn’t stop chattering about it, not every day the Krooks sends one of their own to steal a plushy. The scale you found belongs to Blackjack Johnson, according to the chatter I heard he’s the one that burgled the plushy.”

I hadn’t heard the name before, maybe a newbie?

“Who’s he?”

“He’s one of the Krooks professional burglars, actually been around for quite some time. Although I would be surprised if you heard of him, he’s not really part of their uh… “protection services”, he’s pretty much exclusively into theft. He even freelances for the Kricks and the ‘lazzles from time to time, as long as it doesn’t interfere with Krook business. He’s not famous or anything, but he’s good enough that the Krooks keep him around.”

“Huh, never really knew that the Krooks kept professional burglars, kind of thought they stuck to their “protection services””

“They sort of do, the Krooks may be thugs, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be crafty. They like keeping their options open.”

Fair enough.

“So then the next question is, why did Blackjack Johnson steal the plushy? Any gossip on who hired him?”

“Now this is the interesting part, rumor has it that it was actually one of the Capos themselves.”

Wait this was an internal request? One of the Krooks themselves wanted the hit?

“Wait, one of the Capos ordered the hit? Why?”

“That question is what I spent a better part of today listening to. You should hear some of the theories these grunts come up with. One was even saying that your client was a secret flame to one of the Capos and this is actually some lover’s quarrel.”

I snorted at that. But that still didn’t answer my question.

“But you might be more interested to hear what one of the other grunts said. He’s part of Calvin’s crew, you know the group that operates the waterfront, near the port?”

I vaguely recalled that the Krooks had a small operation on the port. If I remembered correctly they were pretty small. Having thugs that near the enclave made the enclavers uneasy, so the zones actually policed that part properly. However between the dock hands, officials who just didn’t want to deal with them, and sailors, there were plenty of victims for the Krooks to set up a “protection business”. Just wasn’t that big, due to the aforementioned policing presence, and well, ships and cargo really were more the Kricks specialty than the Krooks.

“Don’t think I know Calvin, but I might have heard a thing or two about the Krooks dockside racket.”

“Anyways he said the Capo has been really busy of late. Making lots of chums among the local officials. Even told the crew to lay off the port officials on “payments”, focus more on the sailors and dockhands. The Capo has also been doing some legitimate business with shipping companies. The crew members that come here seem to think that they’re going to make a play on the smuggling business. You know hem in on the Krick’s turf, make the smuggling business a “free market” or whatever they’re calling it nowadays.”

“Well I’ll make sure to avoid the dockside when the inevitable gang war starts, but what’s that got to do with the plushy though.”

“Hold you Horseas Chance, I’m getting to it. According to the crew member, Blackjack Johnson showed up at the docks a few days before the heist. They think that Calvin might be the one who put Blackjack up to the heist.”

“They wouldn’t happen to say why Calvin would put Blackjack Johnson up to this?”

“No, they only got conjecture. It doesn’t really make sense does it? I mean this is weird enough, why steal a plushy at all? Most of the grunts think that this was on someone else’s behalf, that Calvin didn’t want the plushy but someone else did. After all, why would the Krooks care about a plushy?”

“Believe it or not I might have the answer to that. Any of the grunts that came by mention anything about company shares, specifically for the Eastern Ocean Trading Company?”

“Pfft, the grunts? Talk about shares? When digletts fly maybe. As for the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, I don’t think they came up. They one of the companies that operate on the dockside?”

“Maybe, I actually don’t know. But anyways it turns out that plushy might have some sort of clue to where some shares for that company are.”

“Really? Like X marks the spot.”

“Could be, the details are a little vague. Truth is the two might not be related at all, but enough is there that someone could make the connection.”

“You think someone hired the Krooks, or maybe the Krooks themselves are looking for the shares?”

“That’s my theory. Only problem is it’s not that many shares, and more importantly, the shares are completely worthless to anybody but my client. I mean think about it, if someone came in claiming that they just happened across a bunch of papers saying they owned part of your bar, would you believe them?”

“They’d have to be drunk or stupid. No one owns this bar but me.”

“Exactly, mon know that some shares are missing, if you show up with shares that nobody remembers selling to you, eyebrows are going to be raised. Either the Pokemon has no common sense, or this has nothing to do with the shares.”

“Huh, so the grunt going on about a secret love affair may be on to something after all… I can start to see why you’re lacking in sus’s. Nobody really has a reason to steal it, do they?”

“No, not a good one at least.”

That really was the crux of the problem. Usually motive was the easiest part of the equation. But here, I had who had done it, and when they did it, but still didn’t have the foggiest on why they did it.

But it wasn’t a total loss. Alejandro’s information was usually pretty solid. If his “sources” seemed to think that this Calvin fellow was behind the heist, there was a good chance he was. It also brought up some new avenues of investigation. Who’s to say the new relationship that the Krooks were forging with local dock officials was a one way street? Maybe one of the officials decided to use the new partnership for their own ends. Krooks really didn’t do the investment game, too risky for their liking, but a morally dubious dock official hearing of some missing shares on the grapevine? They might be interested. Especially if they were ambitious enough that it blinded them to the obvious flaws.”

Regardless it seemed like my next destination was the waterfront.

I left my payment on the countertop and headed out.

It had even warmed up a little since I came in. Things were looking up it seemed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hardboiled side story 1: The Information Broker**

My father was a simple mon, worked as a baker for one of the grocery stores on fifth. He lived a humble life, content with what he had. Worked the same shift 5 days a week. Never a single complaint. He merely wanted to spend time with his family and enjoy his mundane, but wholesome, life. He left home with a smile and came back with a smile, and that was the way things were.

My mother was an ambitious mon, worked as a waitress for one of the cafes on fourth. She lived a hard working life, always looking for extra shifts, trying to see if she could make some extra coin that day. She wanted what was best for us. New toys for me, maybe a new book for herself, some fancy silver ornaments for the house. She left eager and came home tired, and that was the way things were.

Our house was a cozy one. One of the apartments on third. We weren’t rich, but we were still better off than most other families that lived around us. I always had slightly newer textbooks than my classmates. Always got the newest toys just a little earlier. Despite that it didn’t go to my head. I don’t think I ever saw myself as above anyone else, we were all just kids. On the playground or on the streets no one cared who your family was. As kids the only thing anyone cared about was who your friends were and how good you were at soccer. I left starry eyed in the morning and came back sleepy in the evening, and that was the way things were.

This was the equilibrium of my life. I went to the school on second. I hung out with the other Machops like me. We played soccer in the dusty alleyways. We got in fights with some of the other groups. It was a lawless land for us, but everyone knew once the dinner bells started ringing (or more likely the parents just started shouting at us) that everything ended and everyone returned to their homes safe and sound. The ending of the day was sacred, any fights you had were forgotten, and any grudges were forgiven. The next day was a new day for all of us, the past was but a memory, and we would start school anew as equals, and that was the way things were.

I remember those times fondly. I remember them culminating in a 15th birthday at an upscale restaurant on first. My parents had saved up for it. Turns out they had saved up for a lot more. “Alejandro” they said “We are growing old, and although we have had fulfilling lives, and have saved up much money, there is little we can spend it on. We are too old to start a new business, too old to find new careers, our lot in life is set. Your life is not set, you are still young enough to follow your dreams. That is why when the time comes and you have decided on what you wish to do in life, come to us and we shall help you achieve it”. With that promise the world became my playground, and I spent countless hours dreaming of what I could be, and that was the way things were.

\---

Then things began to change.

I remember my father coming home one day without his signature smile on his face. Sometimes he would be tired, and sometimes he would be a little out of it (especially if he had gone drinking), but this was the first time he seemed genuinely upset about something. Whenever he saw me his face would light up, but on that day he looked at me, and just walked on by. He went to bed early that day. We later learned what had happened. A poor zigzagoon boy had come in and stole some of the bread. The manager caught him and was about to lay a beating when my father had intervened. My father noted that the zigzagoon was clearly starving, and clearly some sort of street urchin. The poor soul probably had nothing to eat, and with winter coming, could starve to death. The manager didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, theft was theft, and if the zigzagoon was a street urchin? Wasn’t their problem, “let someone else deal with it” was their exact words. This left my father in a foul mood. The next day he returned, and his signature smile had not returned, and he seemed in an even worse mood than before. At dinner we learned what had happened. See my father had always been a kind soul, and he had decided to be that “someone else” to help the zigzagoon. At the end of his shift he had taken some of his money and bought a small piece of bread to give to the zigzagoon. When the manager noted the bread under my father’s arm, he asked what it was for. My father told the manager that he was going to give it to the zigzagoon. This it turned out was unacceptable. The manager blew up on my father, stating that the bakery would attract all sorts of vagabonds if they heard that the employees were handing out free food. The manager then went on to rant about how this would undermine his business, and cut into profits. The manager ended this by demanding that my father return the loaf of bread. My father refused. The manager asked one more time. “Either give me the bread, or give me your job” was the exact phrasing used. My father hesitated, but ultimately handed over the bread. The third day my father came home, eyes empty and lifeless, and went straight to bed. The next morning we had learned what had happened. My father had not taken his decision to hand over bread well, and when he returned to work the next day, he confronted the manager. For his efforts, my father was fired on the spot. For two decades my father entered that bakery with a cheery hello and a spirit of loyalty and hard work. He didn’t even get a goodbye from his coworkers on his way out. The next two years were a rough time for my father. His normal schedule completely upended. Now he was stuck at home, family gone going about their day, wondering what he was going to do. Eventually he found another job, some of his baker buddies had contacts with the teamsters, and a Machamp was always welcome amongst their midst. But the loss of his job never completely left him. He still returned with a smile, but it was never as bright as before. I think this was the point at which I realized that for those whose positions put them under the control of others, a simple content life is never really a possibility. As my father learned sometimes loyalty and hard work isn’t rewarded, and your life is subject to change to the whims of those above you. That is why I vowed that when I grew up I would be under no mon, that I would be the top no matter where I worked. I realized that only those in power can rest easy, only those with power matter.

That time in between the Bakery and the Teamsters was also tough for my mother. The family still needed an income to function, and as the sole member in the family with a job, finding the money fell squarely on her shoulders. We weren’t destitute by any means, but we definitely had to tighten the purse strings a little. The meals were a little lighter. Whereas before I would be one of the first to get a toy among my classmates, I was now one of the last. When the school year started we had to buy hand me downs instead of new books. It took its toll on my mother, it was clear that she worked hard so that she could get things for our family. Now she had to work hard just to make ends meet. Every day she came back drained. Sometimes she would come home crying if she had a particularly bad day. She didn’t even complain about certain patrons at work anymore, she was just so tired. Eventually she got used to it, and some of the spring in her step returned when my father found his second job. But it was clear some of the passion had left. She wouldn’t gush about some new book she got, or wouldn’t fantasize with us about how nice some new set of furniture would be. As a kid you could be anything. There just weren’t many tradeoffs, if you wanted to play soccer you could play soccer. If you wanted to hang out in the library you could hang out in the library. Once school ended you were essentially free, you weren’t constrained. But the lean times really made me realize how false that was. It was here, watching other kids play with toys that I didn’t have, watching my dinners get smaller, that not everything was free. That if you didn’t make money you couldn’t do whatever you wanted. That is why I vowed that whatever job I had, it would make enough money to at least allow me to enjoy some of the finer things in life. I gave up on any notion of following my “dreams” or “what I wanted to do”. I realized that if the job didn’t pay well, it wouldn’t be worth having. I learned that only those with wealth can enjoy freedom, can enjoy the nice things in life.

On my 18th year I graduated school. I was a free mon, ready to begin my life in earnest. I considered going to college, but realized I didn’t really have any passion for any subject, so I decided to skip it. I looked around at any job openings, but all were too low level. I was skeptical that the entry level positions offered by the various factories would lead me anywhere in life. Then I noticed a piece of property on sale on Third Street, close to our family home. It was an old bar, apparently the owner had faked a liquor license. This normally wouldn’t have caused much issue, after all the zones barely cared what happened out in the exclave, so they barely bothered to check if everything was up to code. However word on the street was that this bar owner had recently gotten into a spat with the Krooks. It wasn’t a bad enough spat that they needed to send a “message” but it was clear they didn’t take too kindly to whatever the owner had done. So they had contacted the police about the fake license, and that was the end of that. My own bar started to sound appealing. I would be my own boss. There was certainly business to be made, the bars already overflowed around lunch time, another one would probably be a welcome edition. I knew a thing or two about mixing drinks, my mother had imparted that knowledge to me during her time as a waiter. I could make it in life. So after talking to my parents, hiring some friends, actually buying the place, my bar was ready to go. The first few days were rough. I didn’t screw up majorly, but my inexperience definitely showed. But over the next few days I got better, and the crowds increased as my bar became more known. Things were looking up. My bar was getting more crowded. We were making a fair bit of change. I was getting a handle on things.

Then the Krooks came.

At first they weren’t too bad. The Krooks were a part of life for any exclaver, so I wasn’t surprised to see them, and I didn’t mind them either. I actually got along quite well with some of them, some of them had been my soccer buddies during school. But then the other shoe came down. One day I got a visitor after rush hours. A scary looking Krookodile. Massive, and had a brooding aura about him. The shadows seemed to cling to him wherever he went. I don’t know what it was, but something about him just screamed bad news. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. I did my job, a little off-put by his presence, but otherwise unperturbed. His finished his drink, and then started talking about the real reason he was here. He claimed that there were some “bad criminals” stalking the streets at night. That they had been ransacking stores, stealing money, and generally giving good upstanding businessmon such as myself grief. He claimed that he was part of a business operation that could hire “protection” for me. I was so naïve back then. I didn’t laugh in his face, probably the only reason I still have the bar, but I did very publicly announce that I wasn’t interested. He once again trying to “persuade” to reconsider, mentioning that I should talk to some of the other owners, and warned of consequences of I didn’t consider such a generous “offer”. But I rebuffed him a second time. He gave a polite smile, handed over a business card, and said if I ever wished to reconsider, that I should drop on by at the address. I wasn’t worried, no store had been ransacked by “bad criminals” to my knowledge, and I thought I knew the streets pretty well. Key part of that last sentence? “I thought.” This is where I learned that there things out there were things mon didn’t talk about. At least not openly. My family was part Bakery employee and part bar waitress. They had no experience running business. So how would they know what the Krook’s real deal was. Sure we knew they were gangs, but in our mind they always did shady stuff in the corners, money for beatings, money for theft. We just assumed that they bothered only the lowlifes. After all the businesses never got any trouble, so clearly they left the respectable (respectable for the exclave at least) mons alone. It never occurred to me the Krooks were running a protection racket. It never occurred to me that the reason they left them alone was because they were paying the Krooks off.

They didn’t even wait for me to leave. Right as I was closing up a bunch of Krooks barged in and started trashing stuff. Right in front of me. I tried to stop them, type advantage goes a long way after all, but I quickly learned that numbers go farther. Thinking back I could have won 2 on 1, but 6 on 1? Even then I should’ve known better. A few shadow balls and few well-placed bites and I was out.

I remember waking up in my bed.

Staring at a ceiling.

Feeling every bruise and bite.

Feeling residual negative energy from the shadow balls prickling my skin.

Thinking nothing and everything at the same time.

For the first time in my life I genuinely screwed up. For the first time in my life I didn’t know what to do. For all my life things had always turned out fine. Sure bad things happened to me, but nothing life changing, nothing I couldn’t shrug off and forget by the next day. But there was nothing about this I could avoid. My livelihood, no matter how recent, was trashed, my dreams, down a gutter. Hell I didn’t even know if I could walk the streets safely anymore, would the Krooks beat me up if I showed my face outside? I didn’t know.

I cried.

My parents stopped by to see me. They tried to console me, but I just ended up feeling worse. All that money they had saved up, down the drain. My friends came by to see me. I could tell they knew what had happened. Many told me to cheer up, that there were other things to do in life. They knew that just returning to the bar was an impossibility. I was considering cutting my losses, selling the bar, maybe just join a Bakery like my father. I mean he had a pretty good run. The only downside came was when he stuck his neck out. If I didn’t do that then maybe I could end up somewhere, save up enough money to build a business outside this forsaken city. I had made up my mind, the bar had to go.

But fate is a funny thing.

As I was looking through the realty agencies in the papers, I heard a knock one the door, a polite pause, and then I saw a visitor step in. A Krookodile. I panicked. Literally frozen in fear. Had the Krooks decided my punishment wasn’t enough? Was he here to make me a message about what happens to those who don’t respect the Krooks demands? He sat down, my eyes glued to him. Then he said the words I least expected to hear.

“So, you going back?”

I literally could not figure what to say. Was he genuine? Was he legitimately curious if I was going to re-open the bar? Was this another warning? I sat there in silence for a while, and then stammered out “I… guess... not?”

“Shame, I actually liked your place. Guess we went a little overboard.”

“Wh-what?”

“Yeah, mix up on our end. Turns out someone screwed up your hours. You weren’t supposed to be there when we raided the place. Though you didn’t really do yourself any favors when you attacked us.”

So I wasn’t supposed to be a message?

“Why are you tell-telling me this?” I stuttered.

“Didn’t you hear? I actually like your place. All the other bars near there are filled with mons coming out of the factory. All the other bars are filled with mons I don’t know. But your bar, your bar attracted a lot of our old school buddies. There I actually know some of the people, there I don’t drink alone.”

Now that I think about it, he had a point, a lot of my customers were old school buddies.

“Don’t get me wrong, our “services” are still mandatory, even I can’t get you out of that. But if you’re willing to play right by us, the Krooks will leave you alone. No point in beating up honest businessmon if they pay on time, bad for business that would be. So if you still got any interest in running that bar, I could put in some good words with my higher ups and I’m sure we could figure something out.”

He got up and left.

So that is how I ended up keeping the bar. I took up the Krooks offer (with a lot of groveling on my end, just so they knew I got the message.) Took some time to clean up, but eventually I got the bar back up and running.

Turns out the Krooks upheld their end. As long I kept the payments I didn’t get a single bit of trouble out of them. Still, for about a year after that incident, I would feel the panic rise anytime a Krook walked into my establishment. Physical scars go away quick for Pokemon, but I learned that mental scars stick around much longer.

That Krookodile that came to visit me returned when I reopened. He puts some good words for my bar to his fellows, and some of them even became regulars. In an ironic twist of fate a lot of the customers that frequented my bar after the second opening, the ones that got me through the rough beginning period when a bar didn’t have many customers, were the Krooks themselves.

It was here I learned, serving the multitude of Krooks that came to my establishment, the Krooks were not really that secretive. Turns out when the police have more or less abandoned your area, the gangs are pretty open about what they do. They don’t feel the need to stay in the shadows, don’t feel the need to keep quiet. Which was fine by me, because the one thing I did learn was to keep my ear to the floor. Or more specifically keep my ear close to where the Krooks drank. I had learned the hard way that just because I didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble wouldn’t necessarily stop looking for me. So I got good at picking up gossip, got good at knowing who was really in charge. Got good at knowing at which Capos I could ignore and who I had to respect. Didn’t want a repeat of what happened last time. I realized that I was probably never going to be the one with power. I was never going to be the one with tons of money. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a good life. That didn’t mean I had to go through what my parents did.

So that’s how I got where I am now. I come in the late morning, smile on my face, and work my shift( which is basically till midnight.) When its closing time I clean up, gather any scraps, and put them on a plate in the back alley. If say, a poor zigzagoon, decides to use it as a meal before the trash collection services pick it up, then who am I stop them? If I ever feel the need for extra money, to get something nice, I can just keep the bar open a little later.

Don’t get me wrong I still despise the Krooks (well most of them at least). I still haven’t forgotten what they did, who they truly are. I may have one ear on their conversations at all times, but my other ear picks up on other mons conversations too. I hear what the Krooks do to others.

So let’s just say if I hear something that the Krooks are planning, and if there was say, a Chansey interested in stopping those plans, well then let’s just say I might be amenable to giving said Chansey a few crumbs to help him on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with this chapter, the work becomes a true anthology.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to our regularly scheduled programming.

**The missing stufful plushy part 6**

The docks were a funny place. See almost every place in Lively town was either enclave or exclave. If you were surrounded by “upstanding” Pokemon and nice houses, you were in the enclave. If you were surrounded by soot and blue collar Pokemon you were in the exclave. The city was nice and orderly like that. The enclavers stayed in the enclave, and the exclavers stayed in the exclave. If you ever wanted to know where you were, all you had to do was look around.

The docks were not like that at all.

It was maybe the one place that didn’t really fit enclave/exclave binary. You could find all sorts of Pokemon at the docks. Snooty managers walked side by side with teamsters. Lowly Krooks could be seen eating at the same café as the high ranking bureaucrats. A nice beachside mansion might be situated next a tenement complex.

To its credit, it almost had an egalitarian nature to it.

Almost.

The wind was salty, and the hubbub of the dockyards was in full swing. Shipbuilders were busy hammering away at nails. Teamsters loaded and unloaded boxes. Vendors pushed their wares.

Honestly how anyone living here managed to sleep was beyond me.

But I wasn’t here to ponder the daily lives of the dockmons, I was here for answers, and any two bit PI knew that the best way to get answers was through the vendors.

You could choose any one of them really. During the periods of low traffic the vendors tended to hang out together to pass the time, so any gossip tended to spread quickly.

I took a look around, and one of the food vendors was empty so I went over.

They apparently sold specialty seaweed foods. Not my favorite, but I could do worse.

I slid up to the vendor.

“So what’ll it be?”

I looked at my options, they all seemed to be some variant of salad. I pointed to most appetizing one.

“I’ll take some of that.”

“Alright, coming right up”

I watched him grab some utensils. He started scooping the various parts of the salad into the bowl.

“So what’s the latest news?”

“Ehh… not much in terms of gossip. Been hearing complaints from some of the deckhands at the Eastern Ocean, said they’ve been getting conflicting messages from the higher ups, apparently there’s something of a power vacuum in that company.”

“Yeah I heard. Messed up huh? Blokes work their asses of hauling one thing one place, then the boss comes by and tells em to move it to another.”

“Trust me, you got no idea how bad it’s been. Been hearing from the company teamsters that they’ve been working all day, and got nothin’ done. Kinda makes you wish you could just force some those enclavers to do the heavy liftin for once, make them see the hassle they cause.”

“Same. Same. I’ve even heard the Krooks got somethin’ to do wit’ it.”

“Krooks? I mean they’ve been around, but they haven’t been doing anything weird as of late. All the action seems to be going on the Krick’s side.”

“Wait really, what the Krick’s been up to?”

“Apparently the Kricks been cozying up to some of the Eastern Ocean competitors. From what I’ve heard. The Kricks think that the Eastern Ocean is going to lose some of its market shares due to the mess going on. There’s been talk among some of the other trading companies to make a push. Try to cut into some of the Eastern Ocean’s business while they’re distracted and headless.”

“So the Kricks been cozying up to these competitors?”

“You know how it is, Kricks gotta get someone to smuggle in their goods. So they gotta stay on the good side of some of the ship captains. What I’ve heard is that the Eastern Ocean going down has played havoc with the Kricks operations. Apparently they’re trying to get some new captains from other companies into their fold.”

Well that was interesting. So all the smart money was betting that the Eastern Ocean was going to take a loss. But the only side who seemed to be doing anything with the information was the Kricks? The Krooks were staying back?

Why would the Krooks go to all this trouble to cause have havoc with the Eastern Ocean Trading Company and then not doing anything with it?

This didn’t make any sense.

“Well thanks for the salad, and the gossip.”

I left, thoughtfully chewing the weird mishmash of seaweed and dried fruits.

It tasted really weird.

\---

The problem I had was simple. My primary suspects were the Krooks. They were the ones that supposedly ordered the hit, and supposedly knew what happened to the plushy.

But I couldn’t just walk up to the Krooks and say “hey, y’know that plushy y’all stole? I think it would be mighty fine if you returned it.”

This was where you had to walk a mighty fine line in the PI business. One wrong step and your body might not be ever found again. If my client had not been as rich as she was, I wouldn’t even have considered following this up.

Now fortunately for me, there was a way to get the information I needed without tipping off the Krooks.

Generally speaking nosying about one of the threes affair was going to land you into trouble. Obviously I couldn’t just ask the gang members what crimes they had been up to and how I could take back what they stole.

But I could hash out a deal with one of the other three. After all, who wouldn’t want their rivals knocked a peg, even if it was a small peg.

Which is how I found myself in front of a shady looking warehouse, with a few Kricketots standing out front.

I walked up.

“This warehouse isn’t open to the public, move along.”

“I just want to talk, that’s it.”

“We ain’t interested in talking. Now move along.”

“Shame, I had a business proposition. Been hearing you might have had some trouble with some Krookodiles recently…”

That seemed to get some of their attention.

They looked at each other, one of them gave a shrug.

They turned back to me.

“Ok we’ll hear you out, but make it quick.”

“Well you see, I’ve been having trouble with this one specific Krokorok you see. Took something that I’ve got an interest in. Unfortunately this Krokorok has some… let’s say friends, that are making it difficult for me to find them.”

“What do you want to find this Krokorok for?”

“Well you see, I think this Krokorok has something they shouldn’t have, a plushy to be exact…”

That really got their attention.

“Wouldn’t happen to belong to an important member of the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, now would it?”

“I’ve heard rumors that it might.”

They looked at each other again.

They turned back.

“You should come inside, I think our boss might want to have a talk with you.”

\---

The inside of the warehouse was musty and stale. Rows upon rows of wooden boxes lined the floor, stacked 3 to 4 boxes tall. I knew the Kricks did a lot of smuggling, but this was impressive. They were apparently quite busy.

We walked into a side room.

A Kricketune was sitting behind a desk, absentmindedly strumming on one of their strings. One of the Kricketots came over and whispered something in their ear.

The Kricketune furrowed their brow, and their mustache gave a tiny wiggle.

“So, you are looking for Blackjack Johnson. Why.”

“Well you see Blackjack took something of importance to som-“

“Cut the fancy talk. We all know what’s going on. Blackjack Johnson stole something and you want it back. You just don’t want to deal with the Krooks so you come to us, thinking we can protect you. But that’s not how this is going to work. We don’t freelance for just anybody that strolls up to us, and we got a good thing going here. So we aint interested in starting up a fight with the Krooks either.”

“Oh I aint looking for protection, believe me. I’m just looking for information. I’ll let the zones handle the heat, if you get my drift.”

“We don’t just hand out information either, why should we care?”

Alright time to put my cards on the table.

“Look I know you and the Krooks got some new competition going. From what I’ve heard, they’ve been trying to zone in on your turf. Steal some of the game. This goes a little deeper than what Blackjack stole, The Eastern Ocean Trading Company been having some trouble because of what he stole. We both know that when the shipping industry suffers, so do the Kricks. Finding what he stole would go a long way of fixing the problem. You know, straighten out the kinks in your supply chain, set things back to the way things were.”

“Huh, so you’re after that plushy too. I couldn’t quite believe it when I heard that the Eastern Ocean Trading Company was having issues because some fancy-pants Cherrim lost her favorite toy. Yet you’re the third person to come talk to me about it. So you want to know where Blackjack is, and find that plushy? Here’s the deal then. We don’t particularly care if the Eastern Ocean Trading Company recovers or not from this. We got other captains in other industries who would be more than happy to pick up the tab. In fact, I could argue that because the Krooks have been getting so cozy with the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, having them take a dive might end any plans they got to “steal our game” as you so kindly put it. So the way I’m looking at it, this might actually be a good thing for us.”

“Sure, you could say that, but who’s to say the Krooks wouldn’t just look elsewhere? Start over at another company. Best case scenario you just bought yourself some time. Who knows maybe taking down Blackjack could lead to the Zones taking down Calvin and his crew.”

Kricketune gave a hearty chuckle at that. 

“Calvin taken down? Are you serious? That guy is the slipperiest snake on this entire dock. That mon has been under more investigations than I care to count. You know how many times the late Mr.Plum tried to nail Calvin? From the way I heard it, Mr.Plum was convinced that Calvin was part of the Krooks. He was convinced Calvin was just trying to turn the Eastern Ocean Trading Company into a front for the Krooks. I mean he wasn’t wrong or anything. But despite being on his case for over 5 years, he couldn’t find a single piece of evidence ever tying Calvin back to the Krooks. Calvin was too slippery for that. If I remember correctly, by the time the elder Plum died, Calvin had been under investigation by the Zones 16 times. 16 times! Not once did they ever find anything. From what I’ve heard he even started making contingency plans, was becoming paranoid that Calvin was trying to take over. Don’t know how, the 2 biggest shareholders are pretty well known around these parts, and neither of them are Calvin. So I don’t know about you, but what exactly is a Chansey from the Exclave going to do that one of the richest mons this side of town couldn’t do in 5 years? Ya got good talk, but I think you’re talking big but selling cheap.”

Wait the dead Plum actually suspected Calvin as being part of the Krooks? That sounded important. But more importantly I was losing the case here. I needed to think of something fast to convince the Kricks to let me in on what was going on.

They didn’t seem to like what I could give. But maybe I could convince on the price?

“Look, I’ll admit I’m just a lowly Chansey from the Exclave. But what’s it to you to keep this stuff a secret? I’m not coming after you, I’m going after Blackjack. Even if it isn’t much, it still hurts the Krooks, I mean how many professional burglars do you think a racketeering ring has? Even if the Zones only nab Blackjack, that’s still a bargain given it’ll only cost you a few words.”

The Kricketune thought about it.

“It is true you ain’t asking for much out of us here… Tell you what, we tell you where Blackjack hangs out, and you don’t bother us again. Last thing we need is a PI stalking in our midst. Just know that we hear you start looking into our business, we’ll deal with it. Permanently if need be.”

He turned to one of the Kricketots.

“Tell Lugosi to get down here.”

The Kricketot left.

The Kricketune and I then stared at each other awkwardly. It was a little weird, I’m not easy to spook, but having that Kricketune just stare at me for a few minutes, silently, was a bit unnerving.

Thankfully the Kricketot returned with another Kricketot I hadn’t seen before in tow.

“Yeah, whats up boss?”

“Tell this Chansey over here where we last saw Blackjack. This Chansey has kindly agreed to do us a favor.”

“Blackjack? The Krook? Been hearing a lot about him recently, yeesh. Anyways, we don’t know where he hangs out most of the time. Probably stealing from some rich mons house, but apparently he’s been hanging around a café on the west end of the dock for lunch time. I think it was called the “Hospitable Horsea”? It’s a little weird because that’s a fancy place, outside of his price range for a mon like him.”

Huh Interesting.

“Well there you have it, you got what you came for. You two see him out, Lugosi, get back on the streets.”

I was politely escorted back through the warehouse by the two door guards.

“Don’t let his demeanor fool you, you’d actually be doing us a huge favor if you managed to screw around with the Krooks. They’ve been looking to muscle in on our territory for a while.” One of the Kricketots said

With that the Kricketots showed me to the door.

The good news was I had a lead.

The bad news was I had a nagging suspicion in the back of my mind. The various bosses of the gangs tended to be pretty independent of each other. Which meant they didn’t always let each other in on their plans. If the Krooks were looking to muscle in on the smuggling trade through the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, why would they sabotage their way in? The only thing I knew was that Blackjack was hanging around the Krooks. That doesn’t mean the Krooks hired him.

It was just a thought for now.

But if the Kricks wanted to sabotage the Krooks attempt to muscle in, from what I’ve heard, sabotaging the Eastern Ocean Trading Company would be exactly how you would do it. So while it was safe to say this crew probably wasn’t behind it, wouldn’t have talked to me otherwise, there was a very real possibility that another one of the Krick’s crews were.

And I just got a pretty clear warning about looking further into the Kricks.


	8. Chapter 8

**The missing stufful plushy part 7**

The Hospitable Horsea was a place with a long history. According to the wooden plaque in front, the Hospitable Horsea was established in the early days of Lively Town by a young Seadra captain. The captain had a daughter, the eponymous Horsea, who yearned for the return of her father every day. She would wait on the docks, sunup to sundown, waiting for her father’s ship to appear on the horizon. To pass the time she brought some equipment to the docks and set up a mini-kitchen there. She would use washed up seaweed and fresh spices she brought at the market every day on her way to the docks. Supposedly her little endeavors didn’t go unnoticed, and her father set up a little shack for her to pursue her passion of cooking. The plaque claimed that her cooking was so impressive that it became the go to restaurant of both dockmons and rich captains alike. Thus the Hospitable Horsea was born.

It was a good story, really added charm, but as anyone with a knowledge of Lively Town history, or just access to the newspaper records, it was fairly misleading. The real genesis of the Hospitable Horsea was in the boom times of Lively Town, when Lively Town was expanding from a small seaside village to the mess it is today. It was initially started by the Seadra captain, a relative of a fairly rich local family, looking to expand the family business. The Seadra noticed that the docks were becoming fairly busy but didn’t yet have a place to eat. So he invested a part of their fortunes to start up a small grub shack on the dockside, ironically enough called the Salty Seadra. However the Seadra was still a sea captain for one of the families ships so was often away. Thus he handed over management to his Horsea daughter.

The Horsea was something of an up and coming socialite. She had no interest in running a busy vendor catering to rough and tumble dockmons, she wanted to hang out with her high class friends. She envisioned herself hosting soirees and chatting it up with prominent enclavers at a magnificient dockside café. So she started instituting some changes. She set up an exclusive overlook that jutted out from the dock that was exclusively reserved for rich customers. She introduced new, exotic, and most importantly, expensive, foods to the menu. Finally she changed the name of the place from the Salty Seadra to the much more comely Hospitable Horsea.

Her efforts paid off. The traditional clientele started to be siphoned off by the much more accessible and cheaper food stalls that started to spring up, and her socializing ways replaced them with a much more elite crowd. Now over the generations the Hospitable Horsea slowly started to revert back to its original form, as the newer management was more interested in making money than being the talk of town. Notably they also started targeting and catering to the not insignificant number of tourists who started to show up. Which most importantly for me, included investing into an open air seating arrangement that made it very easy to spot Blackjack Johnson when I approached the establishment.

He was sitting at one of the open air tables. One of those cutesy café ones with the pastoral umbrellas that never has enough space for your food. He was sitting across from a Brionne I didn’t recognize. I wouldn’t have payed it any mind if she wasn’t also wearing a silk jacket with an anchor logo and had what appeared to be a bag filled with papers next to her. I didn’t know what the anchor logo was, but the silk jacket was a dead giveaway. No exclave mon could afford a jacket like that, and even if they did, they sure as hell weren’t stupid enough to bring it to work. Furthermore judging by the papers sticking out of the bag, this Brionne was in some sort of administrative position. I don’t think the clothes government officials wore had an anchor motif, so probably working for some corporation then. Most likely this Brionne was some higher level manager at a corporation. That meant that whatever Blackjack and this Brionne were discussing was probably something business related. Something I might be interested in listening in on.

Fortunately that part of the restaurant was a seat-yourself section, so I was able to walk in, and just sit myself down in one of the tables close by. I started to listen in.

“Hey baby, you heard? I just got this sweet new place up in the enclave, right next to the beach.”

“Ohhh tell me more.”

_Weird business conversation but alright._

“It’s a sweet pad. Heard the agent call it “New Deco design” or something. You wanna hang out in it some time?”

“I dunno, you sure it wouldn’t hurt your reputation? Being seen with a good girl like me?”

_Wait hold on a minute…_

“Baby, being seen with a chick like you? I’ll be the hottest item on the block.”

“Don’t burn yourself.”

“Don’t worry I can take the heat. These scales ain’t just for sho, they tougher than Agrron armor.”

 _Are they flirting?_ I was half tempted to turn around just to see if I was eavesdropping the right conversation.

“Ohh, you must have a lot of scars from the streets.”

“You betcha I got the scars, mon gotta make their worth out on the streets. Recently got into a tussle with a Khanghaskan. Lost some some scales around my arm.”

 _You lost some scales around your arm because you hit a bedpost, dumbass._ At least I had the right guy.

“That sounds tough, were you scared?”

“Baby, baby, please. I’m the toughest thing around-“

_I doubt that._

“I aint the one that runs scared of others, others run scared of me. Some mon try to mess with me, they get the business. I promise you this baby, around me you aint got nothin’ to worry about. I’ll make sure a prima ballerina like you gets the respect you deserve.”

“Oh my-“

“Sir can I start you off with something to drink?”

I nearly jumped out of my chair. I was focusing in so much I didn’t notice the waiter approach.

“Oh uhhh, just water is fine.”

“Are you ready for your order?”

“Uhh, sure, I’ll take…” I looked over the menu, nothing really stood out so I just pointed randomly. “This.”

“One tarragon and jalapeno salad coming right up”

 _What type of salad!? Nevermind it doesn’t matter._ I went back to eavesdropping.

“But I aint’ going to be in that type of life no more baby. One of my higher ups, he got somethin goin in the background. Promised to bring me in on it too. Apparently he got some stake in a big company, and he was willing to land me a cushy role if I did something for ‘im. I’m going on the straight and narrow. Trust me babe, by the end of the month, we won’t have to hide a thing. I’ll be a reformed mon, a proper enclaver.”

_Seriously? You’re in maybe the most touristed areas on the docks. How are you hiding anything?_

There was a pause.

“Baby everything ok…?”

“You know I’ve been thinking this place is out in the open. Maybe we should continue this elsewhere…. I like you and all, but I don’t think my father would approve of us right now… I know! Let’s go to your new house.”

“Sure thing babe! I could show you around.”

I heard some shuffling and saw them as they walked by.

The Krook had the standard black Ariados weave jacket with the signature red K that served as the Krook’s unofficial logo. The Brionne walked by and I saw her jacket a little better. Calinhan Shipping Co was emblazoned across the bottom of the anchor logo.

Another shipping company? Perhaps rivals of the Eastern Ocean Trading Company? Maybe Blackjack did pull this off to hijack the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, get in good with this new lady friend he’s been hanging out with. Then again by all accounts it appears that he was ordered to do it. Maybe this higher up wanted to disrupt the Eastern Ocean? Did Calvin have an in with some other company I didn’t know about?

“Sir we appear to have run out of Tarragon, if it would please you we could get you another meal at a discount.“ The waiter once again sidled up to me.

“On second thought I’m not that hungry.”

I got up and left. The waiter seemed a little dejected, but I didn’t really care. They probably made more than enough money selling to naïve tourists anyways.

\---

I was walking down the street, trying to figure out my next move. Stalking Blackjack to his house probably wasn’t going to do anything. I still didn’t want to approach the Krook’s hideout(if it could be even called that, almost everyone on the docks knew where it was) until absolutely necessary.

I was considering maybe figuring out where that Brionne was from, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye that made me. The Leavanny from earlier, she was speaking to some Hariyama on the near some crates. The Leavanny looked flustered. I quickly grabbed a newspaper from my trench coat and hid behind some crates pretending to read. Was it a cliché and stupid? Yes. But it was effective, it wasn’t unheard of for a Pokemon taking a break to be reading a newspaper after all.

“We got any news on when the liquidation begins?”

“Probably pretty soon, the comptroller has gotten most of the paper work signed off, soon the 10% will be liquidated.”

“Well tell them to hurry up, I’m a busy mon and every minute a majority can’t be reached is a minute some other company can take advantage of us.”

“Hold your horseas, ten percent stocks in a company as big as the Eastern Ocean takes time. It’s a lot of money, and there are a lot of people with shares, the comptroller doesn’t want to screw this up. When the stocks get liquidated you’ll get your small payout. Assuming Ms.Plum agrees with the go ahead.”

“Hmmph. Please she’s already dotted the I’s and crossed the t’s, she wants to be done with company, she’ll sign when the time comes. She’ll just take 98% of the payout and be happy with it.”

“Look I get that you’re anxious to move past this, but it won’t make a difference if it’s tomorrow or a few days from now. Let the system work, the world’s not ending tomorrow.”

I heard a loud huff, probably the Leavanny.

“Still wish they would hurry up.”

So the Leavanny did have skin the game. Interesting.

It was silent afterwards. I waited for a while, but the silence continued so they had probably left. The salty sea air blew past me as I considered the case. It was fairly obvious the plushy was stolen because it might lead to the shares. I don’t think anyone looking at the case could come to any other conclusion. I could also be fairly certain that while Blackjack did it. He wasn’t the mastermind behind the heist. That conversation with Brionne made that clear. But I still didn’t know who. Calvin still seemed the most likely candidate, given his shared connection to the Krooks with Blackjack, and that Blackjack was seen hanging around the Krooks “hideout” around the time of the heist. But then again that didn’t really make much sense from a motive perspective, if he was trying to get in the Eastern Ocean Trading Company? Why sabotage them? There were other prospective masterminds as well to be considered, the Kricks, another company. But as much as it made sense that they would want the plushy stolen, there just wasn’t any concrete link between Blackjack and someone else. Except for maybe the Brionne? It was pretty clear Blackjack and that Brionne had some sort of non-professional relationship going, could it be that she put him up to this, maybe as a favor, was her romantic interest just a ruse to manipulate Blackjack? She had good motive after all.

I weighed my options.

There were too many possibilities from the motive angle. So I started to think of the opportunity angle. The death of the elder Plum had been fairly recent, so this was probably something put together recently. So this must have been someone who knew Blackjack from before. That boiled it down to three likely candidates, the Brionne, Calvin, and the Kricks. I also knew that someone payed Blackjack enough to pay for a new house in the Enclave for the job. Any three of them seemed wealthy enough to pull that off, of course I didn’t know the Brionne that well, so it’s possible she didn’t have the means for such a job. The Kricks might have had motive, I didn’t know how much they dabbled in investing, but I doubt they hired him, and then sold him out for free when some PI came knocking at their door. So probably not them, or at least not the dock division. Calvin still seemed like the best suspect, but by all accounts he didn’t have any motive, in fact commons sense seemed to dictate that he would have more of an interest in seeing the company succeed.

I just didn’t have a clear suspect.

I though some more. Of the three suspects, Calvin and the Brionne were the ones that were my most likely candidates, with some other branch of the Kricks I hadn’t interacted with yet, being a distant possibility.

Of Calvin and Brionne, I knew where Brionne was, inside a private residence, so I couldn’t reach her now. I didn’t know where Calvin was, but I suspected where he might be, and it’s a lot easier to spy on a mon at work than at their own home.

Although I didn’t like it, it appeared my next best step was to figure out this Calvin fellow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Case 1: The missing stufful plushy, part 9**

The captain’s code is a set of 11 unofficial rules that every captain of a ship is honor bound to follow. Although not required by law, almost every captain for a corporation or the government swears by this code. It’s about as generically idealistic as it gets, usually covering topic like working in the best interest of the ship, dealing honestly with the crew, etc. It is precisely because of that idealistic bent that the 11th point stands out so much.

  1. Do not go down with the ship



See, back in the day there were only 10 points. In fact the custom back in the day _was_ that the captain was supposed to go down with the ship. Popular belief usually ties this custom to a mythical connection to the ship and the captain. A sort of soul connection if you will that drives the captain to despair at the thought of never seeing their ship again, and thus choosing to go down with it. However most historians seem to come to the understanding that it was a moral custom, but not tied to some mythical connection between a captain and its ship, but rather to the lack of lifeboats. Back in the day the idea of having a bunch of smaller ships on the bigger ship in case the big ship went down didn’t really exist. The “lifeboats” were usually just the boarding boats the crews used to get to shores when the tide was too low for the big boat to come in, and unfortunately their usually wasn’t enough of them to hold all of the crew if the ship sank. The captains, already fairly invested in ideas of honor, usually choose to go down with the ship so that others may take their spot on the lifeboat. Thus was born an unwritten custom among the captains was born.

This custom lasted until one particularly bad day, in which for whatever reason a fair chunk of the fleet was out of the harbor. Rumor has it two ships had crashed at the entrance blocking anyone going out, or in. Thus a large portion of Lively Town’s was stuck outside the safety of the harbor when a freak storm hit. The combination of the brutal storm and the proximity of so many ships in one area, caused havoc, and the vast majority of the ships sank, and true to their word, the captains sank with them. The loss of the ships hurt, but they could be easily replaced. What was not so easily replaced was loss of a multitude of experienced captains. The economic and social shockwave that the event sent was devastating.

After (trying) to deal with the immediate fallout, the government got together and released two things. First was proposition 16b, which simply mandated that any boats must have enough lifeboats to evacuate the entire crew in case of an emergency. The second was an “official” captain’s code, containing the 10 points, as well as the new 11th one. There was some pushback, but most saw the utility of such a point, and there was a concerted campaign to get captains to “observe the 11th.” It eventually succeeded, and the campaign ended, but the phrase “observe the 11th” stuck around. Eventually morphing into a catch all idiom imploring to not continue a futile custom or task due to honor or just stubbornness.

I considered myself to be a stubborn fool. I knew I was self-serving, but I also had honor, if I made a decision on what to do next I made sure I went through with it. But after staring at the red brick house that served as the Krook’s hideout on the Docks for six hours and not seeing one sign of Calvin, I was really considering observing the 11th and calling it in. Not just on this one stake out, but any future stake out of the place. It was just too uncertain and I doubted Calvin would just prance out and lead me to the plushy. I had gotten lucky, really lucky, but I wasn’t dumb to expect luck to get me to the finish line.

I needed to regroup.

\-----

I ended up “regrouping” not far from the Hospitable Horsea. I found a bench to sit near the pier and started thinking of my alternatives.

I could check in on that Brionne again.

I could maybe go back to Alejandro’s bar, see if I could pick up some new tips.

Funnily enough I cou-.

“Well what a pleasant surprise. Funny seeing you here.”

I looked to my left and to my mild surprise, I was staring at Ms. Plum.

“What you doin’ way out here.”

“More business in regards to the shares, paperwork to be filled out and all.”

“Huh” _I guess Leavanny was talking about that stuff earlier, shouldn’t be too surprised._

“So given that I’m paying you and all, care to give me an update?”

“Your plushy seems to be mixed up in some seriously bad juju. The longer I look into it, the more suspects I end up getting. I guess while you’re here, you know about any Brionnes? Ones that might have it out for the company?”

“Brionnes? Can’t say I have.”

_Oh well, worth a shot._

“So what are you looking into then?”

“Well mostly Krooks right now, everything seems to be pointing back to them.”

“Really? Why would they want it?”

“That’s the million poke question right there. Everything points to the Krooks, but they really don’t have any reason to steal it.”

“Humph, well in that case they better treat it with respect. My parents spent a lot of money on the doll, and I spent a lot of time creating its item knapsack.”

“Oh you sew?”

“Back in the day, not anymore though.”

“Huh.”

…

…

“You know I really wish this would be over with.”

“You’ve mentioned. Quite a bit actually.”

She ignored me. “I mean seriously every day I have Ms.Nuzleaf pestering me about it. I just don’t want to hear about it anymore. Heck, when Leavanny-“

“Wait, Leavanny?”

“Yeah Leavanny, the other major shareholder.”

_Huh, so that’s who she is._

“So anyways Leavanny, whos basically been out of sight this entire time, just started really pushing for liquidation. She practically shoved the paperwork in my face this afternoon. Oh she tried to be all polite about it too “I know you’re grieving but could you please get this done” and “I know you’re focused on finding your sack carrying friend, but could you do me a favor.” Honestly I was starting to like her, she kept out of my way, but I guess she was no different than the rest of them.”

“Yeah, mon are like that.”

“Honestly, shameful it is. That plushy was really personal to me. I didn’t share or tell anyone about it, it was my toy, and when I was younger I was so worried that others would get jealous and steal it from me. When I got older I didn’t really tell anyone because I thought it would make me look childish. Turns out I was right not to talk about it, seriously every mon who wants something from me try to bring up that plushy. They try to talk how they’ll help me find it, or how they can’t understand my pain, and they always follow it up with a request. Sometimes I wish they would just stop talking about it, it brings up bad memories.”

“Yeah, mon can be insensitive alright.” _Did she really come here just to vent at me_?

“Like just thre-.” I stopped paying attention. I had a case to think about, I didn’t have time to hear about paperwork troubles and that stupid Leavanny trying to use her “sack carrying friend” as a means- wait a minute.

“Ms. Plum?”

“Huh?” She stopped her rant, appearing to look up.

“You said you never really talked about your plushy right?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever show it to anyone?”

“Not really, it’s mostly stayed in my room. I already told you this remember?”

“So if you knit that bag for the plushy.”

“Yes..?”

“Is there any way that Leavanny could have known about the bag on the plushy?”

“Umm… well.. ?” She seemed to be lost in thought.

But things were already clicking in my mind. If you had no skin in the game, why would you check out the detective that was hired to look into the plushy matter? Then by pure coincidence she starts pushing for Ms. Plum to hurry up this “liquidation” process after apparent days of silence? Then finally how had she known about the knapsack the plushy had?

I didn’t quite have all the details. Mainly why would this Leavanny, an apparent major stakeholder in the Eastern Ocean Trading Company, want the plushy, it went against her interests didn’t it? But the facts were lining up, I couldn’t ignore this possible lead.

I couldn’t ignore this opportunity. It was getting late, now was a perfect opportunity to do some snooping around for what this Leavanny was up to.

By the time Ms.Plum had already made up her mind. I was already walking down the docks to the Eastern Ocean Trading Company Headquarters.

\-----

Finding a company’s HQ was really not that hard. Mostly because they all tended to be located on Oran row, about a block back from the docks. Close enough to the action, but far enough back that the mon working at the HQ wouldn’t have to deal with all the traffic going on at the docks. If there was Major Corporation, you could bet that they would be found on Oran row.

I approached the building. The building was a red brick Hansa style house. I walked in the front door and went to the lobby. Looking at the directory I found what I was looking for, Leavanny, 3rd floor, office 5. I went to the Kingdra receptionist, who was giving me a suspicious look.

“I need to see Leavanny.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but this is urgent. I work for a Ms.Plum.”

“Unfortunately I cannot allow anyone in unless they have an appointment.”

“Could you call her down then.”

“She’s not here presently, do you want to leave a message?”

“No, I’ll come some other time.”

Good. All I needed to know was whether she was still in her office.

I left and looped back down the alley. The building was exactly 3 stories tall, and it was night time, the sun having set a while ago. Most people didn’t expect Chansey’s to be the most agile of Pokemon, and they’d be right. But with enough practice and the right items, any Pokemon could go anywhere, and by the right items I mean the pounce wand.

I pulled one out of my trench coat and pointed it towards the roof. I activated it, and it launched me into the air. I managed to grab the ledge and pull myself up. It was a little unstable, being on a triangular roof and all, but I managed to find the roofside window, open it, and get in. This was would’ve gotten me into trouble if I had done this during the day, but given that it was night? The streets were empty and this office building was almost certainly as well. I just had to be careful not to make any noises. I carefully made my way out of what appeared to be a broom closet. I snuck my way down the hall, went down some stairs, and quietly tiptoed about the third floor. Eventually I found Leavanny’s office, pretty easily given that she had a big 5 painted on the door, as well as a little nametag on it. I lock picked the door and snuck inside.

I wasn’t expecting to find the plushy, but I was expecting to find some clues. I ruffled through some papers on her desk. Nothing of note so far. I wonder if she kept a calendar? I started opening up drawers in her desk until I found a nice looking book. Opening it up confirmed that it was indeed a Calendar. I flipped to the most recent dates and started looking through it.

Most of it was normal stuff, day to day activities, however one thing did stand out to me. Every night she blocked out a piece of time to go to some warehouse in the docks.

_Now why would a rich investor like you go to a dingy warehouse at night?_

Properly convinced I was on to something, I relocked the door to the office, closed the drawers, tried to rearrange everything as I thought I remembered it, took out an escape orb(highly illegal), and smashed it on the ground.

The escape orb funnily enough put me at the entrance of the building, not the alleyway I had come in from. It was risk of using an escape orb, as the magic behind it wasn’t clear, so it wasn’t always obvious what the escape orb though was the “entrance” to a place. Luckily nobody was about, so nobody questioned why a Chansey materialized right in front of the Eastern Ocean Trading Company.

It didn’t matter, I had a warehouse to go to.

\----

I immediately knew is in the right place when I saw the two Krokoroks out front.

_What have you been up to Leavanny._

I needed to be stealthy, I needed to be quiet, and most importantly I needed to somehow get inside that warehouse. I started looking around, unless I wanted to knock out the two Krook guards then going in the front door wasn’t an option. I could always try the windows, but they seemed to be too high up and way too big to open. I thought some more, I couldn’t afford to be seen by the Krooks here, and truthfully I didn’t fully know who was inside.

“Hey.”

I nearly jumped out of my hiding place.

I looked down. To see a Ms. Plum.

“What the-, what are you doing here?”

“Following you, it seems like you figured something out, and I wanted to see what it was.”

“So you followed me?”

“Yeah. By the way pretty sure Escape Orbs aren’t legal, and neither is trespassing, but I’ll keep it a secret.”

_Wait she saw that? How did she tail me without me noticing? Damn she’s good._

“So what are you doing now?”

“Trying to find a way inside that warehouse.”

“Guessing those are Krooks out front?”

“Yeah.”

“Side door? Maybe pull off that little pounce wand trick you had from earlier? I’ve used my fair share of items, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pounce wand used like that.”

_She saw that too?_

I don’t know how good of an idea the pounce wand was here. I had no idea whether the roof had a hatch that would lead inside. But side door… that was probably an option.

“Hmm, I think you’re right. Stay here, I suspect you’ll be owing me a lot of coin soon.”

With that I immediately started sneaking towards the side of the building. I heard some muttering behind me something like “You work for me you don’t say what I get to do”, but I didn’t stick around to listen.

Once again I found myself in an alleyway, and sure enough a side door was present. Probably the fire escape I had to guess. I still had to lockpick it, and managed to sneak my way in. The warehouse was similar to the one I had been in with the Kricks. Although I could hear the faint sound of waves in the background, and the faint smell of the sea was drifting in from the back. The back of the warehouse might be open to the sea, maybe a shipping dock?

I carefully tiptoed my way around the crates, the sound of murmuring could be heard. I approached stealthily, and peaked out behind the crates. Sure enough, the mons I were looking for there right in front of me, in a large clearing between the boxes. A Leavanny was standing next to a Krookodile, I didn’t really see anyone else around. They were standing at a table, one of the lights above was turned on, sending a single giant ray of yellow light onto the table. On that table was the thing I was looking for the entire time, the plushy.

“Come on, how much longer is Ms.Plum going to take? I don’t want that detective figuring out what’s going on before the liquidation happens.”

“Not too much longer, soon the 10% will be liquidated and with your 5% and my 41% we’ll have enough shares to get a majority. You’ll have your position within the company.”

“Better get it, I’ve got plenty of contacts among the Krooks to make sure you’ll face the consequences if I’m duped, I’m tired of slinking in the shadows, would be nice to finally be important enough to live in the enclave for once.”

“Soon. I’ve seen their detective, could smell the booze a mile away, I don’t think they’ll get anywhere. All we need to make sure is that Ms.Plum doesn’t find the shares, and the liquidation will go through as planned. Regardless any luck with the plushy?”

“I’m starting to think it’s a dead end, we looked in its bag, we’ve pulled out the stuffing, we checked the inside of it’s badge. There’s no shares and certainly no hints we could find about where the shares are. I’m starting to think it was a dead end in the first place, maybe the old mon lost them or started getting delusional in their old age.”

“That’s disappointing… Wouldn’t want to go through all this effort just for Ms.Plum to accidently stumble upon them later. If they are out there, we need to get to them first.”

“Honestly I’m half temp-, what was that?”

Two thumps could be heard echoing throughout the warehouse.

“Who’s there?” the Krookodile shouted.

There was no response.

“Come on let’s go check it out.”

The Leavanny and the Krookodile left.

Now was my chance! I hurried over to the table and nabbed the plushy, and ran back into the maze of crates. However I quickly found out that I was totally lost. I had completely forgotten the path I had used to get here.

_ShitShitShitShit._

I then did maybe the stupidest thing imaginable in that scenario. Instead of carefully thinking it out and methodically I finding my way out, I panicked and started hurrying down the nearest paths. Which is how I found myself turning a corner too fast and stumbling into a very bemused looking Krookodile. Before I could scramble back the Krookodile grabbed me and dragged me back to the clearing.

The Leavanny had apparently already circled back.

“Look what I found scrounging around.”

“Well if it isn’t the detective Chansey. Not going to lie, I thought you were a complete layabout, turns out I underestimated you.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“So what do you want to do with them?”

“Do Chansey’s float? Could through em in the Ocean out back, doubt the Chansey knows how to swim.”

“Now hold on a second what’s this about?”

“I dunno Calvin, better just kill them here.”

_Wait what?_

“Now hold on hold on hold on, what’s this about killing, I’m a PI, I know how to keep a secret. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone nothin’. Hell I could even make it worth your while, find those shares for you perhaps?”

“Ehhhh…. . No deal. Calvin gut him.”

“Wait wait wait-“

“No hold up why am I doin’ the dirty work.”

“excuse me”

“I can keep a deal, no need to be hasty.”

“Because Calvin you’re already holding him.”

“ **excuse me** ”

“Honestly I’m kind of tired of doing all the wo-.”

Suddenly a massive amount of light flooded the room. From the window I saw the moon as it appeared to grow ten times brighter, nearly blinding me. The stars around it shined with new brilliance. The room suddenly went from mildly chilly to uncomfortably hot.

A singular cherry blossom pokemon stepped out from behind the crates.

“Well that got your attention. Two things. First, I would like you to unhand my employee.”

The Krookodile snorted “Wait you’re the one who hired him, you’re Ms.Plum? Give you credit, I didn’t think some enclave prissy would have the guts to come to a place like this.”

“I’m going to give you to the count of three. Whoever you are.”

“one”

The Krookodile started laughing.

“two”

“Calvin watch out! She’s not who you think she is!”

“three”

The Krookodile gave a sneer, and then in a surprisingly agile motion for something so big let go of me and jumped out of the way as a beam of a light shot forth from the Cherrim to where the Krookodile once was.

The Krookodile’s sneer was replaced with a look of mild respect.

“Gotta give it to you, never thought an enclaver would have it in them to actually get their hands dirty.”

“Second thing Mr “I didn’t think some enclave prissy would have the guts”, I’ve spent a better part of my life an explorer delving the deepest dungeons and fighting ferals much stronger than you. If you don’t believe me ask your two friends outside guarding the door. Oh wait, you can’t, they’re out cold.”

_Well that explains all the clutter in her house then._

\----

The battle was all things considered relatively short. But that didn’t make it any less intense for me.

The battle was also relatively straightforward. Calvin immediately charged Ms.Plum, I assume to use his superior size and physical strength to bulldoze her into submission. The Cherrim responded by kicking up a storm of pink petals and dancing around the surprisingly agile Krook. This left me to deal with the Leavanny.

The Leavanny also decided to charge at me. Given their wicked blades, I don’t blame them. I was fast enough to send a flamethrower their way. The Leavanny clumsily ducked out of the way, so it still hit their leaf. The Leavanny winced, but otherwise still kept coming. I barely had time to take out two iron spikes before Leavanny was upon me.

It was clear that neither of us were expert swordsmon. Our attacks were clumsy and predictable. It was sort of weird I would try to stab Leavanny but she’d parry easily and then take a swipe at me, which I parried with ease with my other iron spike. This version of events went on repeat for a while. This stood in complete contrast to Cherrim who was putting on a dance recital for the ages on the other side of the clearing. I saw twists, turns, pirouettes, and even a backflip as she dodged the Krook’s brutal attacks. It was at that point Leavanny hit one of the iron spikes so hard it actually flew out of my hand. Temporarily stunned by my disarming, Leavanny moved surprisingly quickly to deliver another slash at me, one that I was too slow to dodge. The hit was surprisingly devastating, I could actual feel it pierce my skin, and some blood actually sprayed out from the cut. I tried to retaliate with a flamethrower from my free hand, but she easily dodged that. I was beginning to lose, and if things kept going the way they were, I was going to lose hard. Chansey’s are just not meant for physical encounters, and Leavanny’s were, that was just a fact of life. If this continued I was going to be pummeled into submission. So I pulled out my ace.

See Chansey’s are known for their special attacks, for good reason, getting hit by a Chansey was like getting hit by a sponge. Which is why I used iron spikes, actually gave my slaps a sting. So most Pokemon assume that they don’t need to worry about getting up close and personal to a Chansey, and normally they’d be right. However I was anything but normal, so at Leavanny’s next swipe, I stepped inwards, causing her blade to miss me and her inner arm to hit the side of my head. I did a tight a bear hug, and then pulled off my move, Seismic toss.

The Leavanny was sent flying through the air at an alarming pace. She hit the ceiling with a loud *C R A S H* and then plummeted back to earth, unmoving. She was knocked out. I looked over, the other side of the clearing was absolutely plastered with pink petals. I could see a large hump in the middle of the coat of pink petals, I assumed a knocked out Calvin. Apparently the Petal Dance had been too much.

I saw another smaller hump and walked over to it. Brushing the petals out of the way, I found the plushy. I picked it up, some of the sewing was loose, I assumed from the time they took out the stuffing, they at least had the decency to put it back in. I felt around the plushy. The badge felt solid, so no hidden compartment there. Then I felt the bag and gave a little smile, it was stiff and hard to bend. I didn’t even have to open it to know the truth.

“I think I found your shares.”

“What?”

“The shares your father was hiding.”

“What? How?”

“It’s like your father said the plushy was the key all along.”

“But it didn’t have anything.”

“Yes it did. The shares were in the bag the entire time.”

“Now I definitely don’t understand, the bag was empty last time I checked? Also these guys seemed to have been all over my plushy the past few days. Pretty sure they would have found the shares if it was just sitting in the bag.”

“Ok, let me show you.” I took out another iron spike. “It’s not in the bag, it’s *in* the bag.” With that I hooked the iron spike around one of the stitching’s on the bag and pulled, causing the bag to unfold into its two components. Sure enough between the two pieces of cloth that made the exterior and interior wall of the bag was a series of very tightly folded up papers. I handed them to Cherrim.

“I believe these are yours. Cloth shouldn’t be that stiff, I’m surprised no one realized.”

Cherrim starred at the papers, unfolding them and looking through them.

“Indeed they are the shares. Wish you told me though instead of unravelling that bag in two, it took me some time to sew that when I was younger.”

“But I think you’ll manage. I believe you owe me 10,000 poke.”

“Indeed I will manage, and yes, it appears I owe you some sum of money, you did indeed find my plushy, and in less than a day as well. I’m quite impressed, even if I had to save your hide here at the end. Come on let’s get the police before they wake up.”

And with that we left to go contact the Zones.

\---

The night went about as much one would expect. The Zones came, saw four knocked out Pokemon and a bunch of pink petals, and promptly made their arrests. Ms.Plum actually had the poke on hand and literally handed me a giant sack of coins. I didn’t bother to count, I didn’t think she’d be the one to pull a fast one over me. Also she kinda saved my hide, I owed it to her to at least take her at her word.

The next day the Zones came to take my statement, and I was informed that I would be expected to show up as a witness during the trial. I wasn’t really bothered though, that was at least months away, and Leavanny and Calvin were liable to strike a deal, forgoing any trial at all.

So that’s how I found myself drinking a nice bottle of oran flavored pecha rum, flipping a coin in my hand, enjoying life. The money would last me a while so I was quite pleased. I prepared to take a days nap when I heard the door, and a voice came in.

“Are you Chance the PI? I need your help.”

Sigh. Couldn’t turn down a customer. It looked like I was going to have to finish this rum another time.


End file.
